In his next quotation the pamphleteer is intent on giving a blow to his compeers of the English school. Mr Leigh confirms Mr Solly’s view—is questioned, _Q._ 1913: “You say the more chaste works of the Italian school—do you refer to an earlier era?”—“I allude to that particular period so justly referred to in the questions put to Mr Solly.” _Q._ 1914: “Do you mean the historical painters who were contemporaneous or prior to Raffaelle?”—“Yes.” _Q._ 1915: “You prefer these to the schools of Bologna?”—“Yes; it is a school whose works we are exceedingly in want of, to enable us to correct the tendency of the English style towards weakness of design, effeminacy of composition, and flauntiness of colouring.” But Mr Dyce has altogether forgotten his own rule, that it is not to be endured to give a judgment, &c.—that is, to pronounce what is good, what is “best” and “of the best,” and that if proved best, we have nothing whatever to do with that accident. We have just warned the public, by showing the probable number of specimens for this new “Old Curiosity Shop,” to be called our National Gallery. Page 18, Mr Dyce says, “Still, if it be remembered that only fifteen years after the commencement of the Royal Gallery of Berlin it possessed works of all classes, from the rude Byzantine down to productions of the last century, to the number of nearly twelve hundred, we need entertain no great misgiving as to the possibility of forming even a very considerable collection within a moderate period.” The public, we hope, do entertain a very great misgiving of the consequences of so frightful an inundation, especially as it is to begin with the rude Byzantine. But as the “rude Byzantine” may stand as high art, or fine art, in comparison with still more rude beginnings; and as antiquity lore is ever increased as it looks backward, and is not confined to country, there may be cause for misgiving whether there may not be an attempt to ransack China and Japan for new old schools—to discover picture mines in Peru, for monstrosities in paint and design; for all become legitimate sources under the ever-growing chronological mania, this outrageous pedantry of the “The history of Art.” And here the writer of the pamphlet, having perhaps momentary misgivings himself as to the quality of the stuff to be collected, goes backwards and forwards in oscillating contradictions, from best to any specimens, and from any specimens to best, ending in such wise conclusion as he generally comes to, that it is “best” to get the “best” specimens we can, but no matter whether we get them or not, provided we get any. For he insists that the one object is to have “a collection illustrative of the history of the art, and “(in italics)” the formation of it must be undertaken expressly with that view.” Moreover, “secondly, that though it be desirable that all works collected should be of the highest order—that is to say” (he loves